


Crepuscule

by LadyBlack3



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2020-06-24 03:53:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19715689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBlack3/pseuds/LadyBlack3
Summary: Successful entrepreneur, socialite and trailblazer, Pansy Parkinson has everything one could want or need. But is she happy? Will she find out just what she's missing when her paths cross once again with the Gryffindor princess?





	1. Chapter 1

**March 2018**

She swirled her glass around, the clinking of the melting ice cube hardly audible in the hypnotic beat of the music permeating each corner of the club. It was no fire whiskey but bourbon would do tonight, especially after the busy week she'd had. Circe was one of her favourite clubs in London. Muggle-run and catering to a specific clientele, she was practically anonymous here. While the magical world was fully recovered from the Second Wizarding War, progress was slow and the freedoms she enjoyed in this world were bountiful compared to the attitude of some of her peers in Magical Britain.

Pansy snorted into her drink quietly, remembering her early days. Always trying on her mother's robes and make up, forever mimicking her snobbery and fawning over Draco. It was drilled into her to always be a lady, to put those who deserved it down, and to never show weakness, only superiority. So she did, year after year keeping her head high and mocking the Golden Trio and their fellow incompetent lions. Until she realised that instead of actually making her feel superior, it was leaving her feeling empty. One by one, her friends took the mark. Draco, Vince, Gregory… her father was rising in the ranks as well and mother was more than ever pressing on her to behave like the perfect lady, the future of the wizarding race, a young woman ready to be married once their Lord takes over Magical Britain.

The dinner parties she previously enjoyed turned into events for the loyalists showcasing their skills with torture. Her favourite shops began closing down one by one, owned by muggle-borns and half-bloods of exceptional skill but in danger of losing their wand or life. She felt more isolated than ever, realising there was no future with that monster in it despite the favouritism shown to her and all the other Slytherins during the reign of the Carrows.

She kept up the hard facade but no matter what she did or how proper she behaved, her reputation as the spoiled and easy Slytherin princess grew. It was true, she had once fawned over Draco, but they were still betrothed to be married by their families at that point, and she saw no reason to be apologetic for getting closer to her soon-to-be-husband. It didn't matter that she never actually slept with anyone but the blond, her confidence and attitude ensured there would always be malicious rumours about her 'easy virtue'. _Damned if I do or don't,_ she thought resolutely as she finished her drink and motioned for the passing bartender to top her up.

Then of course the day of the battle came and Potter made it to the castle. By this point she was exhausted, scared, and just wanted it to be over. Her mother was dead and she was completely disillusioned about her own future. It wasn't that she hated Potter or wanted him to die. She started believing that Potter just might be their chance at freedom and a happy future some time after the fifth year. She didn't want to hand him over for slaughter but rather deliver him to the Dark Lord so he could end this once and for all. Of course she was considered villainous for ever suggestion handing over the Golden boy and taken away to the dungeons. Very few people actually knew that she joined Professor Slughorn once their defences were breached, and fought from the shadows against the Death Eater ranks. She shuddered when Greyback was finally killed, always having found him repulsive. She rejoiced when the Carrows fell and wouldn't be able to cast another cruciatus on their little first years. And she sighed a deep breath of relief when the Dark Lord finally fell by Potter's hand.

As the bodies of the dead were rounded up, she spotted her father's crumpled form on the ground and also breathed a sigh of relief. She would mourn once she wasn't so tired. At that moment, she was free from the clutches of her parents' expectations to marry a monster behind a silver mask, the Dark Lord's painful rule, and survived the battle that could have easily seen her die and end the Parkinson line. Of course there were trials. She was questioned before the Wizengamot, and since she was under veritaserum, she spoke the honest truth about her lack of loyalty to the Death Eater cause, and her participation in the battle. She never took the mark and never committed any crimes punishable by the assembled judges. Nearly twenty years ago, she walked out of the Ministry a free woman and the sole heiress to the Parkinson estate and fortune.

"Can I get you another one?" the words were spoken sensually into her ear, bringing her out of the fond memory.

She turned to look at the tall woman standing beside her chair, long braids tied into an elaborate bun atop her head, smooth dark skin glistening in the moving lights of the crowded room. Had she been in a different mood, there would be no hesitation in her response. Not tonight though. "I'm just heading off, but thank you. Perhaps another time?" she offered with a small smile as she finished her drink.

Sidestepping her companion, she headed out of the club and caught a cab home, unwilling to risk splinching as her head started getting fuzzy from the liquor.

* * *

"Kyra, it's good to see you," she smiled appreciatively at the woman across from her, offering her a seat across rom her desk. "What can I help you with?" she asked, curious about the visit.

Kyra Fawley was one of the most talented potioneers she had ever met, other than her old Head of House of course. Incredibly creative and resourceful, she was a true Ravenclaw and researcher, forever searching for her next inspiration and challenge.

She was lucky to have met Kyra. When she was starting her business, Pansy had a clear idea of what she wanted to achieve but struggled to get the business off its feet. Her potion skills were far from abhorrent but hardly instinctive, so experimenting with potions was most certainly not her forte. For three years she did her research into ingredients, the market and worked on potential branding ideas before meeting the fresh graduate by chance in an Apothecary. They started talking and it wasn't long before Pansy offered her a chance to prove her brewing skills. Kyra proved her worth by perfecting the formula for her line of moisturisers as well as experimenting with her suggestions for shampoo and conditioner, and coming up with a full line of products to suit different hair types. Pansy hired her as the head of research and brewing department immediately, and her brand 'Pensée' was born.

It wasn't extensive to start with, basic hair care and skin care products that were organic and harvested local ingredients. With the rise in social consciousness around waste and environmental impact, her products became quickly popular in the Wizarding world both in Britain and in Europe. As their population blended further with the muggles post-war, her skincare started reaching muggle audience so they made the bold step to adjust their formulas to fit both worlds. They were still brewed traditionally in cauldrons but couldn't be considered potions and therefore harmful for muggles. It was an instant hit, and with the rise in social media and online 'influencers', 2017 was so far their most successful year.

Over the past ten years they've spent many a meeting spread out over Pansy's or Kyra's desk and looking at different ways to improve the current line of products or introduce new samples. So far, every time Kyra approached her, they managed to design a product that added to a long list of happy customers and Pansy's multi-million empire.

"How is the improved formula for our Blue Tansy moisturiser sitting with the muggle market?" Kyra asked, shaking her head at an offered cup of tea.

"So far so good. Instagram is full of beauty bloggers testing it and we've updated our content with several beauty websites to accommodate the new formula specifications. So far it's a hit," Pansy offered a pleased smile.

"Good, I'm glad we were able to finalise the development on that one," she smiled and looked down at the proposal she brought. "I have something I wanted to discuss with you but it would be a bit outside of our regular approach," she indicated, pushing a stray blond strand behind her ear. It was always up in a hurried bun atop her head to keep out of her lovely face.

Pansy was admittedly intrigued by her hesitation, she had a feeling this will be either very good, or very tricky. "I'm all ears," she indicated for the blonde to go ahead as she flicked the window open and lit up a cigarillo, one of the very few guilty pleasures she allowed herself.

Kyra handed her a sheet of paper with various formulas and notes. "I know we've so far only used cosmetics for beauty purposes but I was thinking we could expand our line to deal with some other skin concerns and conditions," she began explaining. "There is a rise in popularity when it comes to products focused on soothing reactive skin, and lessening scarring and appearance of burns."

Pansy nodded. "I am aware of a few brands, both medicated and non-medicated that deal with these issues. Some are more successful than others, and their price can often mean they are not very accessible to someone on a low family budget," she pointed out.

Kyra agreed heartily. "Precisely. I was thinking we could come up with a formula that isn't magical like a burn salve but delivers similar results over time when used regularly as part of a skincare regiment. Burn salve is cheap as chips to make for us and buy for customers. We would want to obviously make some profit but keep the price down to create a competitive product that would be more affordable than the current options," she explained.

Pansy thought about it for a moment before nodding. "It could be a whole new line, minimal ingredients, as natural as possible," she started seeing a picture in her mind, something that would appeal to women of all ages dealing with conditions and physical scars that they may have been struggling with for years or affected their mental heath and confidence. This could be a real game changer for the lives of their customers, especially her generation that had its fair share of scars…

Her gaze returned to the woman across from her. "I sense a catch. What is it?" she asked.

Kyra sighed, of course it wouldn't be that easy. "I have minimal experience in this field and because it would entail potentially developing a whole new line of products, I was wondering whether you would be happy to hire someone with expertise in this field to help me build the formulas," she suggested carefully.

Pansy raised a brow in amusement. "So that's what you're worried about?" Shaking her head, she took a sip of her tea and a toke from her cigarillo. "If you tell me you need three new people in the lab, we'll get you three new people. I have no issue investing into an idea that has such incredible potential. Why were you do hesitant to ask?"

Kyra shook her head. "Because I don't need three new people, I only need one and I'm not sure you will like who she is."

The intrigue continued. "So it's a woman? I am only too happy to provide an opportunity for a female Potion Master. Where would we be if we didn't help each other into spaces that may be otherwise inaccessible to us?" she asked rhetorically. And Merlin knew that was the bloody truth, she had to build everything herself with no help from anyone, and most of her staff were incredibly talented people who struggled to gain fulfilling opportunities due to their identity in one way or another. As far as she was concerned, the more the merrier.

Kyra sat in silence for a moment, her green eyes clouded with worry. "Yes, but would you offer the position to Hermione Granger?" she finally asked, observing her friend and colleague for a reaction.

Ah, there's the catch. Pansy sat back in her chair, contemplating Kyra's words. Of course it had to be Granger. As much as she tried to stay away from media, the Prophet remained a good gage of the mood in their world so she continued to subscribe to it daily. The fact that the Golden Trio featured regularly didn't change despite the fact that it's been nearly 20 years since the war. Gods, she still had to get a gown for the upcoming 20th Anniversary ball…

"What makes you recommend her?" she asked curiously, focusing on the topic at hand once more.

Kyra handed over a folder. "This is her file and body of work. I think she has the expertise for the job and we have been colleagues and acquaintances for a few years now, as the field is so small. I mentioned to her who I work with and she was surprised but said it must be an excellent opportunity. And I have it on good authority that she is quitting her job soon. I think we should snatched her up as soon as possibly and utilise that brilliant mind for our new line," she suggested.

Pansy took the file but didn't open it. "I have some time before my meeting at three to look all this over and have a think. I'll come down to the lab afterwards to catch up," she promised.

Kyra just looked at her for a moment, seeing the slight tightness around Pansy's lips. Pansy Parkinson was a mystery to many, despite how often the Prophet wrote about her. Nearing forty now she still had the slight curves and toned physique that hasn't changed for nearly two decades, or so she judged from the many photos gracing the front pages. Her dark hair was cut into a blunt bob and one side was usually tucked behind her ear in a trademark fashion. And despite the fact that she could have a good laugh, there were very few crinkles around her piercing blue eyes. Pug faced, ice queen, hard as stone - those were all names given to her by friend and colleague over the years but Kyra considered herself once of the lucky few who get to see Pansy's warmth when she laughed or got excited. Right now though she could see the hesitation around the edges of the closed off neutral expression and decided to bow out gracefully, seeing it was not the time to push Pansy on this. "Sure, I'll have a cup of tea ready for you," she offered before sticking her hands into the pockets of her lab coat and headed out to let her think on it. Hopefully in a couple weeks time, she would have Hermione brewing with her.

Pansy looked at the closed file before her, holding onto the edge loosely. She took another toke and buzzed through to her assistant Constance that she needed an hour without interruptions. That done, she kicked off her heels and got comfortable as she crossed her legs leisurely and opened the thick file. Her last memory of Granger was from about five years ago at a trip to the Ministry for one of her patents. She looked older, more confident, her bushy hair still wild but better formed into a mass of shiny curls falling down to her shoulder blades in an orderly chaos. And of course there was the scar.

She looked at the photo attached to the CV before scanning the page over to reveal a list of achievements, patents and accreditation. Head of Department for Regulation of Magical Creatures by 27, werewolf and vampire rights lobbyist, research into cure for lycanthropy, patented human blood supplement potion and improved version or wolfsbane, research into curse scarring and medicinal potions for creature-caused injuries… One thing hasn't changed, Granger clearly remained an over-achiever.

Then she spotted the gap in employment for two years. No one really knew what happened, only that she returned with that scar on her face and was clearly no longer fully human. The last entry was her current job, once again for the Ministry but this time at the Department of Mysteries. There was little detail next to that entry, only indication that it involved brewing. Interesting, and Kyra said she wanted to leave her current job? She wondered what they were paying her there and what her reasons were for leaving such a prestigious position…

Pansy wasn't a betting type so perhaps she owed it to herself and to Granger to actually interview her and find out why she would want to work with her. She leafed through the attached copies of patents and other awards before closing the file after one last look at the photo. A lot can happen in 20 years, she wondered whether they would last in the same room for more than ten minutes….


	2. Chapter 2

"My assistant will be in touch with next steps, Mr. Wimbledy," Pansy shook the man's hand and watched him leave her office with a self-satisfied smirk.

Prick.

The man was a washed out second son of one of the pureblood families up-north and wanted to invest into her business in return for a seat on her board and shares. No chance, he made her skin crawl and very much reminded her of the kind of people she used to deal with way back after the war.

Sadly as she found out following a visit to Gringotts after her trial, the family accounts were severely depleted from their previously bountiful state, due to her father's incompetence and bad investment choices. So she sold the family manor and several other estates and instead made new investments and bought a flat in London that would be plenty for her while she finished her studies. Pansy oftentimes found that she was considered dumb and merely brought up to be a perfect pureblood housewife, and it was true to some point. If the war didn't happen and her eyes weren't open to the realities of pure blood prejudice, she very likely would have ended up on Draco's arm, forever stuck in a loveless and unhappy marriage as a decoration to her husband. At the age of eighteen, she was instead an orphan of the war, much more resourceful than ever before, and allowed the tendril of ambition to bloom with her chest into a force, for the first time ever wanting to forge her own path, discover what she was really capable of achieving. So she transferred to Beauxbatons Academy, to get away from the stifling British society with too many ghosts and too many antiquated 'heroes' like Wimbledy.

As it turned out, the beautiful French chateau was the place where she found out more about herself than ever before.

She always had the ability to read a room, talk to anyone no matter their station, and see potential for advancement or profit - it only made sense for her to choose the business module as her elective. And so in the classroom atop the North tower, she learnt that she could be a successful business woman if she found a niche in the market that suited her creativity. Her mother was probably rolling in her grave at the mere notion.

If that wasn't enough of a discovery, she learnt that the vicious streak she displayed as a child was still inside her when she found out that one of her classmates was sabotaging her dormitory in order to drive her out of the school for being associated with Death Eaters. Taking inspiration from someone she never would have considered before, her classmate had to be withdrawn from class permanently after her forehead flared up in painful hives every time she though negatively about Pansy. She thought fondly of Granger's impressive spell-work that inspired her that day. Pansy was unapologetic and she decided to own it.

The biggest revelation however awaited her one afternoon following herbology and medicinal potions, in the company of one Valerie Renechaux. A pretty blonde, who up until that point was mostly shy, decided to speak to her after class and invite her for a hot chocolate on the next trip to the magical village not far from the château. At first Pansy thought it was a friendly invitation, as Valerie clearly had very few, if any friends. She soon discovered that not only was it very much a date, but that the thought of returning the blonde's affections was not unwelcome. It was behind that greenhouse during their lunch break that she was first kissed by another woman and enjoyed it more than any kiss she previously shared with anyone else. Her mother was most likely rolling so fast in her grave, she could pass for a muggle fan at this point.…

Yes, Valerie had been a revelation. They stayed together for a few months, meeting after classes to study and make out, eventually exploring their pleasures together and discovering what they each enjoyed. Graduation however meant that Valerie had to return to Switzerland and to Pansy's surprise, to her intended fiancé. So much for escaping the prescriptions of her previous life…

While it was her first real experience with heartbreak, her relationship with Valerie taught Pansy that she preferred and desired the connection and pleasure that she could share with another woman. It wasn't unheard of, far from it, their world was quite inclusive in many ways, at least it was so for most people. For a pureblood heiress who was the last living member of a long-standing upper class family? Not so much. Men like Wimbledy always speculated whether they could be the man to finally 'turn her' to her sense and back to her rightful place, on the arm of a man.

For nearly two decades now, she was shunned by a part of her old circles, and demonised in the newspapers for being a dangerous example to young ladies in higher society. Utter tosh of course but that didn't stop the gossip, nor advances of Wimbledy and his ilk. They could try, and they will fail time and time again. At least she could enjoy watching the realisation on their faces that there was no place for them in her life, professional or private.

She pressed the button on the small dashboard to her left. "What does the rest of the day look like, Constance?" she asked, knowing her assistant was back at her desk by now.

She waited a moment before Constance could be heard over the intercom. "You have half an hour in your schedule pencilled in for staff review, followed by an eleven o'clock meeting with Mr Kimble from marketing, and then twelve o'clock with Potion Mistress Hermione Granger. The rest of your afternoon is pencilled in for development with Miss Fawley until your dinner arrangement with Lady Malfoy. Would you like me to make any changes to your itinerary?" she asked.

Pansy thought about it for a moment. "I will be taking the meeting with Kimble on the lower level as he has to show me some of the specifics at his department. When Mistress Granger shows up, please guide her to the private room at the restaurant below and make sure she orders whatever she likes. I will be joining her there directly after my meeting. Also, do send a memo to Kyra that I will be joining her in the lab by two."

"Right away," Constance made the note hastily, already drafting the memo in her mind.

"Also, I'll need the latest report from the sales team and the research team as well to review the staff folders as planned this morning. Please send those in. Thank you, Constance," she switched the intercom off and sat back, looking at the closed folder to her left that held information on her upcoming meeting. Perhaps throwing the Gryffindor princess a curve ball will make lunch more interesting, she mused.

* * *

The headquarters of Pensée was a cleverly designed building at the heart of Mayfair where business met luxury shopping. The ground floor of their building was split between a boutique with their products and a small wizarding restaurant where staff could eat with a discount and sales department could entertain any company. Pansy liked to hold some of her business meetings there too, as the cooking was good and they always held the small private room for her unless instructed otherwise. The back door of the building was a staff entrance, all development and production staff heading for the three underground floors, and all the admin, marketing and sales staff heading up to the first floor. Pansy had her own lift on the side of the building to the top floor which housed Constance's desk as reception, Pansy's office and an entertaining suite for small business showcase events and soirees with investors.

She dropped off the marketing report on her desk and wondered whether to take the file she had on the witch with her, but decided against it, merely taking her purse and phone just in case of emergency. Once down, the Maitre d' spotted her near immediately and opened the door for her with a smile. "Good morning, Lady Parkinson. Your guest is already seated in the private room, shall I take you through?" she asked.

"Please, if you would, Miss Morris," she replied politely and followed the woman along the left hand side wall to a private room separated from the rest with a thick curtain fused with privacy charms. It could be made see-through from the inside, but the conversations held within would always remain private. Pansy designed it herself with the help of Kyra's brother who was a curse breaker.

Miss Morris held the curtain open for her and Pansy stepped through, her dark gaze landing on the seated guest across from her. "Thank you, Miss Morris, that will be all for the moment. I will ring for the waitress when we're ready to order," she thanked the woman who bowed slightly before leaving them to it.

Taking a bold step forward, Pansy extended her hand to the witch across from her who stood to greet her. "I think it's been too long since our paths last crossed, so perhaps introductions are in order. Lady Pansy Parkinson, CEO of Pensée Cosmetics," she offered neutrally, using her official title for the first meeting.

"Potion Mistress Hermione Granger," Hermione responded as she took the offered hand and shook it firmly but with moderation, knowing her grip was stronger than she sometimes knew herself these days.

Pansy motioned for her to take her seat again and poured herself some water as she sat across from her companion. "Did you have a look at the menu? The head chef is Italian but French-taught and his pasta is practically art," she recommended, watching as the brunette picked up the menu with a nod to re-read her options.

It allowed Pansy a moment to herself to observe the woman her ex-classmate and one third of the former Golden Trio became. Her hair was just as wild and large but the curls were tighter and much less frizzy, the colour of honey with a curious nearly white streak at her temple. She wondered whether that was caused by spell damage. Granger was still on the shorter side but her simple grey dress revealed well-formed biceps and toned physique not unlike her own, honed by years of swimming, running and yoga. Unlike herself though, Granger seemed to be much more curvaceous than the last time they saw each other, and her magical aura hummed slightly, more mature than her erratic magic during Hogwarts. Pansy could almost feel her power and felt herself naturally drawn to it but resisted leaning closer in her seat. The hands holding the menu were the hands of a potions mistress, nails cut short and clean but no lacquer and a few potion stains here and there from some of the more potent ingredients. They reminded her of Kyra's hands after a week spent locked up in the developmental lab, trying to nail down the perfect formula.

"I think I know what I'd like," Granger closed her menu and looked straight back at her, aware she was being covertly observed.

Pansy nodded and pressed a small button on a dashboard at the table edge and the waitress was with them in moments, taking their orders and disappearing again.

"Kyra tells me you've been friends and colleagues for a few years now, how did you meet?" she asked, keeping the topic light and throwing the brunette off.

Hermione tried not to show her surprise at the conversation starter but then again her memories of Pansy Parkinson were few and what she most could remember her was her straight-forward nature and nasty streak. At least one of those clearly remained unchanged. "At the annual conference of Potion Masters about three years ago. It was held in Cardiff that time, if I remember correctly. We ended up seated at the same table through dinner and got on well. We kept in touch afterwards, still do," she clarified before deciding to ask a question of her own, as this didn't appear to be a standard interview anyway. "She said she started working for you as an accident as well?"

Pansy paused in her response when the waitress came it to pour their wine before focusing on the brunette once more. "We met at a fortunate time for my company. I was in need of a potion mistress and she was leaving her CV at the apothecary just in case someone was in need of her skills. I overheard her and we started talking about my concept. I liked her and decided to give her a chance, she seemed excited by having a chance to head up development of w hole skin care line. Every product this company produces is formulated by the two of us," she explained, feeling it led well to the reason why they were meeting. "I presume Kyra mentioned why we are seeking a potioneer of your particular expertise?"

"Vaguely," Hermione reached for the cloth serviette and folded it over her crossed lap. "She mentioned wanting to focus on a healing set of cosmetics and we discussed some of my previous work, which prompted her to mention your name," she answered honestly.

"I see," Pansy nodded, now having a clearer idea of Granger's expectations.

The waitress was back and started laying out their dishes and sides, giving Hermione the chance to observe the woman across from her in turn. Her memories of Parkinson were hazy, they only had a few nasty encounters, mostly because she was on Malfoy's arm when he decided to aggravate Harry and Ron. She appeared in the Prophet a few times a year, one scandal or another, but Hermione paid little mind to it, so she rarely caught sight of her ex-classmate since Hogwarts. Time has been kind to Pansy Parkinson, she looked confident and mature, her presence commanding attention and dark gaze intriguing while revealing little. Her tight black dress showed a trim figure, her movements naturally elegant. If her hair and eye colouring wasn't quite so dark, she would have presumed Parkinson to have some Veela heritage, but she was certain that was not the case. She sniffed the air slightly as if taking in the aroma of the food and while it did smell delicious, there was another enticing scent that held her attention. Under the light spray of what she recognised vaguely as one of the Chanel perfumes, she could smell the potent magical energy and rich blood of her companion. Hermione realised over the years that the very essence of the castor will influence the magic they produce. Parkinson's magic was dark like treacle but with underlying sweetness, perhaps a reflection of the woman's nature.

"You were right, the pasta smells delicious," she complimented as the waitress left, and took a small bite of her delicious ravioli.

Pansy inclined her head at the compliment. "I'm glad it's to your taste. Now, before we go any further, I will need clarification on two points in your recent employment history. You took a two year sabbatical after quitting at your last post as the Head of Department for Regulations and Control of Magical Creatures after many successful years. Any particular reason?" she asked curiously.

Hermione continued to chew her mouthful, allowing Pansy to study her face. Of course, Parkinson must be curious about her scars. "I felt that I've achieved what I set out to do and wanted to grant opportunity to those in my team who sought advancement. My two years abroad were spent traveling and visiting several different private potion practices and various colleagues of mine, to explore my personal brewing projects and seek advice on my recent formulas such as the improved wolfsbane potion," she explained matter-of-factly. Everyone was curious about her scars, but she never spoke about them to anyone, let them speculate.

Ah yes, wolfsbane. Pansy nodded as she listened to the brunette and her gaze trailed the three long silvery slashes that started under her left eye by the nose and dragged down her cheek and just past her chin to the middle of her throat. Everyone presumed it was a werewolf scrape, Granger never addressed those rumours. Perhaps she was some sort of hybrid like William Weasley? Pansy was only growing more curious.

"And what prompted you to accept an offer from the Department of Mysteries upon your return? It's an unusual switch," she observed, wondering how much the brunette could talk about it.

Hermione smiled into her glass of wine. "I am bound by confidentiality but it is a one-off contract for a specific project that is ending this month, and I will not be renewing my contract with the department due to political differences," she summarised.

That phrasing caught Pansy's attention. "Political differences? How so?" Pansy asked curiously.

Hermione looked amused. "Let's just say it may be two decades since the war but the DOM is the one place at the Ministry least touched by change and progress," she explained, putting her point across without really answering.

Brava, Pansy took a sip of her wine as well and asked the question she was quite curious about. "If I were to offer you a position in my company, would you feel that we may have political differences that could create any issues?"

She knew the question was loaded with their personal history but it was a long time ago. She could see the stubborn line on Granger's brow, and knew she would probably forever remain a Gryffindor at heart. But more than that, they were both very different people to who they used to be and she could see that. Would Granger agree?

Hermione took a moment to answer. The cool and collected Slytherin queen still sat before her, but she seemed to have thawed around the edges a little, and the sparkle of intelligence and humour were something new to witness. And considering the mission and vision of the company Parkinson started from the ground up, she could tell that the woman no longer held her previous values around blood purity and superiority. Perhaps they could give it a try and see how they got along.

"I would like to think that 20 years is a long enough time to find some common ground. I would be willing to try if you are," she suggested, throwing the ball back in Pansy's court as she folded her cutlery to signal she was done with her lunch.

Pansy hid her smile in the wine before nodding. "I think that's reasonable. Are you happy to discuss a 3 month trial period contract to ensure confidentiality and your interest in the project?"

Hermione nodded, having expected this as standard procedure. "I could begin from the 1st of the next month, after familiarising myself with your vision for the new line of products," she suggested.

"Very well, let's head up to my office, my assistant Constance will be able to prepare all the briefing and HR documentation as we speak," she stood and left a few banknotes on the table to cover them both before motioning Granger ahead of her.

Their first encounter after nearly two decades ended up in a definite draw, but for some reason Pansy had the feeling the game was just starting.


	3. Chapter 3

"This place is incredible," Hermione looked around the beautiful modern laboratory set up on one of the underground floors of the Pensée building.

After her initial meeting with Pansy and Kyra, she understood better the concept they both had in mind and where this could meet with some of the work she has been planning and drafting in her own free time. This new skincare line could have an incredible impact in both the worlds she lived in, and after a long time dealing with the political minefield at the Ministry finally felt truly excited about the prospect of being a part of something so socially impactful.

Kyra offered to meet for her a coffee at eight so she could have a companion for her first day, and was currently enjoying an induction to the facilities. "Thanks, Pans and I designed it ourselves, a mixture of magical and muggle fittings. I'll introduce you to the two assistants we will have on this project later on, they are both currently on loan to the lab next door where we're brewing our regular line. This is the experimentation suite," she typed in a code into the small keypad by the door and with a click the door opened to let them in.

Hermione had to give it to Parkinson, the place was state of the art. The laboratories had modern facilities when it came to heat moderation under cauldrons, gradient and well-responding light adjustment system for when needing to work with more photo-sensitive ingredients, and Kyra appeared to rule her domain with a firm and tidy hand. "What is the range of ingredients you have access to?" She asked, wondering whether they stocked any of the more precious, expensive and oftentimes dangerous ingredients.

Seeing her line of inquiry, Kyra grinned. "I'm afraid you will be disappointed, as we only usually deal with common ingredients, however I could be persuaded to deviate during the experimental phase."

Hermione chuckled at her enthusiasm. "Of course we'll try to keep the ingredients accessible but it's something good to do some testing to make sure other products don't interact with the key magical ingredients in our products," she pointed out.

"I like the sound of that, our products," Kyra teased and led her back to the other side of the lab. "These are the changing rooms for our lab. You don't mind sharing, do you?"

Hermione shook her head. "Not at all, perfectly used to it." Merlin knew that was the truth after being cramped into a unisex changing room with half her department for months…

"Excellent, I'll set you up with a locker today. We have standard issue lab coats and aprons, happy for you to pick whatever you prefer to wear over your regular brewing clothes. Do you have two wardrobes as well, or is it just me?" Kyra asked curiously.

Hermione snorted. "If by that you mean do I have a laundry basket specifically for brewing clothing and a set of drawers with things that have at least one hole in them, then yes," she admitted. The life of a potions mistress meant a lot of Primark shopping…

"See, you get it! I tried to explain that to Nev and he finds it hilarious. Then again half of his trousers have permanent mud patches in them so her's hardly the one to talk," she pointed out.

"I haven't seen Neville for a while, it would be nice to meet up again," Hermione admitted.

"Of course! We'll have to arrange a dinner at ours, it's a date," Kyra beamed and took her back towards the stock room as the tour continued.

* * *

Hermione unlocked the door to her second floor victorian flat in Hoxton and kicked off her towards the shoe rack. There was a bump somewhere near the kitchen before a very excited German shepherd came bounding in and greeted her with a happy bark.

"Hello, how is my handsome boy?" she smiled and leaned down to kiss his snout and let him run a couple of circles around her. "Did Cami take you out for your walk like I asked her to? Yes? Good, let's get us some dinner," she offered the magical word and chuckled as he ran ahead to sit beside his bowl like the good boy that he was.

Crookshanks passed away shortly after the war and she was too busy with her career for many years to replace him as a familiar. Ever since the incident though, cats didn't react to her magical aura well at all, to the point when she had the whole cat section hissing at her the last time she entered Magical Menagerie. She was still trying to research why that was but as it wasn't exactly a documented field, so results were slow to come by. The time came for her to get a new familiar though, so Hermione thought that a dog might be a good change if they could tolerate her, and it seemed to have been a good choice.

Byron was a rescue, the only puppy to survive from a large litter that was abandoned by a muggle in their neighbourhood. When she picked him up a year ago, he was a healthy growing pup who waddled over to her without reservation and promptly peed on her shoe in excitement. She took it as a sign and adopted him on the spot. He kept her on her toes and their physically active nature suited each other well.

After sorting Byron out, she rooted around her fridge and pulled out a few bits to make a quick ramen that would help her unwind after the long day. She was still excited to have landed this job. Parkinson paid very well and working with Kyra was going to be fun.

After the war it took a while for them all to recuperate. After so many years joined close at the hip, for the first time Hermione, Ron and Harry decided to go their separate ways. Ron enjoyed the fame and went to become the Keeper for Chudley Cannons. As living in Britain was proving too difficult for the media-hounded Boy-Who-Lived, he decided to relocate to Romania and work with Charlie for a while before exploring the world and travelling. Hermione missed him but she decided to do what was best for her. Her parents passed away just before the final battle, in a car crash of all things, and she had an estate to deal with while the ministry continued to badger her to join them. She took her time to recover, finish her studies, deal with her nightmares and finally decided to apply herself where she knew change was needed most - welfare of magical creatures.

Hermione quickly became the rising star of the Ministry, the ruthless policy maker and a politician when she needed to be. But she still worked in the field of potions as well on a personal thesis and oftentimes visited sites that needed development and support from the Ministry to really get an idea for the full scope of need. It was exhausting and her personal life was minimal in those days but she was happy to be making so much positive change in their world. Surprisingly it was Minerva who remained a good friend to her after she left Hogwarts, always ready with a kind word when she was facing criticism from the relentless opposition at the Ministry. After losing her mum, the wise witch became the closest thing to a parental figure she had and they still kept in contact two decades after the last time she set foot in the halls of Hogwarts as a students.

It was through her visits to Hogwarts that she kept in touch with Neville as well. An established Herbologist, he was hounded by requests from the Ministry to come work for them but he chose a quieter life in the Sottish highlands, supplying plants for the school and various departments at Mungo's where his parents still resided. They reconnected quickly after the war and became good friends, exchanging letters often even when her schedule was punishing.

She quickly ate her ramen and settled Byron for the evening before heading for the shower to wash her day off. The bright light in her bathroom was uncompromising as ever as she undressed and paused to look at her scarred face and the two scratches across her left breast. Most days she didn't notice them, they were a part of her just as much as her nose, fingers and other puckered scars were, but days like today when she was relentlessly stared at were occasionally tough.

It all happened so quickly. They were visiting the Welsh reserve at Snowdonia that reported killings of some of the creatures in their care as well as some of their organs missing. As valuable commodity on the black market, this instantly raised alarm bells so they decided to do an inspection and find out what the issue was. As she walked across the mountain side with the director of the reserve to discuss the situation and have a look at the reserve from a birds-eye view, they stumbled upon a cave that housed a bird unlike she had seen before. As it turned out, it wasn't a bird at all, but rather one of the rarest magical creatures in their world - a harpy. Considered near extinct, no harpy has been sighted for decades but the creature that attacked them was most certainly not a veela despite some resemblance. Her feminine face was beautiful but twisted with fury as her large wings beat powerfully, her long legs and arms were covered in feathers and fingers carried talons that shone with strength and sharpness. They had no time to protect themselves as the harpy attacked faster than lightening, forcing the director over the side of the cliff to certain death and Hermione against the rocky wall in agony from the cuts to her body.

It was over as quickly as it began and she was found later by her team who went to search for them on their brooms. There was nothing to treat other than the cuts themselves, but they struggled to heal and oftentimes burned ferociously during the nights when she recovered. After her treatment in Mungo's, she provided her testimony of the attack to Kingsley himself, who embargoed the information to avoid it getting into the press and to the possible poachers who would salivate at the potential pay check from such rarity. There was however no avoiding the visible marks on her becoming a topic of conversation and reason for mistrust from her colleagues and opponents. Everyone assumed they were caused by a werewolf or some other infectious beast and opposition to her work continued to only rise.

She was determined to carry on her work despite this but then she started to notice the small changes; slowly at first but couldn't really tell whether they came immediately after the attack or a few weeks later. She became restless, much more nocturnal and didn't need more than two or three hours of sleep, suddenly finding herself with a lot of time on her hands during the night. And yet she didn't feel like she needed more. Her sense became much sharper, able to easily find her way around in the dark with clear sight and one day she found herself gagging at the stench of a bookshop she walked into before realising she could smell the rotting wood of one of the shelves by the back wall all the way from the entrance. These were the first signs that something was not right but she guessed they could just be a short-term effect of the attack, something in her magic unsettled by the incident that would remedy itself in a few days. How wrong she was.

Hermione pulled her unruly locks up into a quick bun and out of the way, turning around to look at the large tattoo on her back.

She could still remember the persistent itching. No matter how much she moisturised, her back itched relentlessly for three weeks after the attack. Until she woke up in the middle of the night in agony and wrapped up in a pair of dark brown wings that petrified her. She screamed in surprise and fell out of bed, noticing the bloodied bedsheets where her skin bled after splitting in her sleep to allow the wings to come out. She spent a full day walking around her flat and breaking things until they finally retracted, leaving her heaving in a panic attack. It took her a few days to recover and get a hang of summoning and retracting them. Surprisingly the only sign of their existence once retracted was a tattoo of the large wings that covered the length of her back, as she discovered with great surprise shortly after getting a hang of them and seeing the damage to her back in the mirror. They look like a regular muggle tattoo, no movement or magical ability, dormant under the skin until they are summoned again. Thankfully the split skin healed quickly and it no longer hurt to let the wings out.

At this point she knew there was no doubt that the harpy's scratches must have acted the same way as a werewolf bite or scratch would, by transferring some of the traits to the host. But there were no feathers anywhere else on her body, and the wings were the only real outward sign of anything different about her. It was the last straw however for her to resign from her position and rather head into self study.

Not long after she qualified as a potions Mistress and travelled for a few years, trying to expand her knowledge on mythical creatures and harpies in particular, but so little was know of them beyond Homer's tales and medieval references by Dante. So she focused on other projects such as developing a cure for lycanthropy, blood replacement potions that could be drank by vampires if they so chose instead of hunting humans, and healing medicine for creature-cause injuries like her own. Her thirst for knowledge and improvement of others lives remained insatiable and drove her decision to return to Britain three years ago and take the offer from Department of Mysteries to analyse potions found in one of the chambers that have not been touch for decades, some for centuries. Amongst the common soup and gone off putrid vials were the rare gems that were well-preserved but experimental. And if they could learn anything from them and from the notes of the previous department potion masters, she wanted to be a part of the discovery.

And yet, despite her previous loyalty to the Ministry and track record as a war heroine, she continued to face opposition simple because she was not only a muggleborn not now she wasn't even a full-blooded witch. Time and time again she was hounded by the questions and rumours around her 'lycanthropy' but she worked regularly during full moons and appeared no worse for wear either so the rumours only got worse and more sinister. For what does the populi fear more than a monster? An unknown monster. Because if she wasn't a werewolf, what was she? She was glad that contract was over and she was starting anew on a project that could make a true difference this time.

Hermione looked herself in the eye in the mirror for a long moment, taking a moment to affirm her resolve before stepping into the hot shower and washing away the strain and the stares of the day. Once she started and people got used to her appearance, the staring would lessen, she knew that, but first days were always a bit tricky. Byron found his way into the bathroom and got up on the edge of the bathtub with his front paws excited by the stream of water. She chuckled and allowed him to jump in, washing the pup down and letting him chase the stream with his mouth happily for a few minutes before quickly drying him off with a spell and washing the mess of his fur down.

"No more excitement for you, mister," she tutted and allowed Byron to curl up at the bottom of the bed as she reached for her half-read Chris Carter, ready for another night spent in the company of her favourite tea cup and murder mystery. Perhaps one day she will find someone to spend the long waking hours with…


	4. Chapter 4

"Good boy, Byron," she patted his side as they came up to her flat after their morning run, both of them panting with exertion.

She quickly wiped him down and made sure his paws were dry before taking him off the lead and watching him pad over to his cushion by the fireplace. The weather turned on them halfway up the road and they were both soaked before managing to get back. March storms always made life a more difficult to get around but at least with the aid of magic, her travel plans this morning won't be endangered.

Once showered, she plaited her hair out of the way, loose curls framing her heart-shaped face as she wiggled into her black jeans and a strappy top. Once back in the kitchen she made herself some tea and reviewed the notes in her overflowing Filofax. She really needed to get a new one but most of her research notes were in there, so she kept it around for as long as she could, adding extra pages and hoping the binding could take it. They finally had a list of the skin conditions they wanted to tackle, and were starting on the research to choose the best ingredients. With eczema and psoriasis, the ingredients looked to be fairly straight forward for most of the line, so did the ingredients they will be testing for rosacea. But the magically induced scars were proving to be tricky. Her own research led her onto trials of things such as Bio Oil, cocoa butter, panthenol, vitamin E rich ingredients, and yet the results were always minimal if the scars were older than 6 months due to the magical properties of the injury. Alone, these ingredients just stood no chance. But maybe if combined with magical ingredients? Perhaps it was time to do something that was still rarely utilised in the magical world - growing new ingredients by cross-breeding plants.

They haven't yet discussed it in the lab, but she wanted to be at least informed when they had their initial discussion around the possibility of developing new herbs with tailored magical properties that could be used for the line. As it was nearly eight, she quickly packed up her bag, slipped on her boots and thick jumper and dashed out after kissing Byron's snout goodbye.

"Be a good boy, no chewing mama's bra again. I mean it," she pointed to him as she locked up, the pup whined at her tone, looking rather cute if guilty.

She made sure the flat was secure before heading down the street to get a boost from the national apparition spot to get to Scotland. The heavy rainclouds hung above her head as she spun on the spot and landed by the Hogwarts gate, instantly raising her wand to cast an umbrella spell that would keep her dry from the downpour that had already began. The gate soon opened and she was greeted by Neville's smiling face, half covered by the hood of his raincoat.

"Good to see you Hermione!" He raised his voice over the loud rain as they hurried up to the greenhouses that were nearer than the castle itself. As it was an early Saturday morning, the grounds were completely deserted, the only movements catching her eye coming from one of the greenhouses where Neville was leading her.

After quickly unlocking the door, they stepped in and shook off the rain, casting drying spells until they were once again all dry. "I forgot how much fun Scottish weather could be," Hermione chuckled and accepted a hug from Neville, kissing his cheek before she pulled away and hung up her bag on the coat rack as well.

"We may not like it, but the mandrakes love the storms, it makes them sleepy and they grow faster. If you listen carefully, you can hear some of them snoring through the bottom of their pot," he offered, pulling out a chair for her at the small corner table where he kept a pot of tea while he worked in the greenhouse on the weekends.

They haven't seen each other for a few months now due to her travels and his busy period with the new school year and winter flu that demanded him growing a lot for the hospital wing and Mungos alike. She was happy to see that he looked so happy and settled in his thirties. His quiet introverted confidence remained one his most endearing qualities, as was his love for the plants that he grew and his simple life in the Highlands. They made a lovely couple with Kyra, her endless energy and drive to learn balancing well with the more quiet nature of her ex-classmate.

"Thank you for seeing me, I know it starts to get busy for you around this time. Kyra gave me a stern talking to, said we definitely need to do a dinner date," she chuckled fondly.

Neville pushed his sleeves back and poured her a steaming cup of tea. "We should. My mango tree in the tropical greenhouse has been very generous this year. We can have some for dessert," he offered.

"I would like that. Show me around?" she asked, looking at the wonderful plants around her. She knew she was in greenhouse seven, the new experimental greenhouse Neville instated for his cross-breeding and more dangerous plants. And she couldn't wait to go an adventure getting to know the resident plants.

It took them two hours to walk around the greenhouse, as Hermione asked endless questions and Neville was a fountain of knowledge on the plants that he was studying and cross-breeding. It was incredible to hear his theories why he cut into one of the branches of a Japanese yuzu tree, in itself a hybrid of two citrus fruits, and added a branch from their native english pear, which if grown in magical soil had the added properties that could replace camomile extract in sleeping draughts when the drinker had an allergy or intolerance to the flower. The combination of these very different plants was a beautiful thick-skinned pear shaped fruit that when cut into had a delightful yellow interior and citrus-like markings but tasted like a sour pear. She was utterly fascinated.

"I could talk your ear off for another two hours if you're not careful," he warned her with a smile as they topped up their tea and sat back down.

"If you're not careful I'll be here for demonstrations on a weekly basis," she countered and sighed happily as the hot tea warmed her up a bit.

"How about that dinner then? We can all get together, I'm sure Kyra will have some excellent ideas as well. She's helped me with several of these breeds," he pointed to the trees in the nearby corner.

Hermione nodded. "I would like that. When would be best for you?" she asked.

"This Friday night? I don't have any patrols and we can have a proper dinner evening without repercussions for the following day," he suggested, his plum wine always a hit at dinner parties though its potency rarely left the participants without consequences.

Hermione was clearly thinking along the same vein. "I'll gladly brave the headache if I can get my hands of some of that wine of yours. Friday it is, I'll join you around seven? I can bring some clotted cream ice cream to go with the fresh mango for dessert," she suggested.

"Deal," he smiled and they said their goodbyes before Hermione stepped back out into the storm and headed back to drizzly London and into the lab to her research board.

* * *

"For the last time, I don't need you to hook me up. Who could you possibly introduce me to that isn't either scandalised or doesn't have family that would disown her on the spot if they knew she was seeing me?" Pansy said pointedly, though she suspected her words would once again fall on deaf ears. "Really, I am quite happy as I am, there's no need to fuss and most certainly no need for blind dates, Ria," she added in a final tone, hoping it would end the conversation.

Astoria Greengrass was someone she knew of when younger but because of the slight age difference, Pansy was much more aware of her older sister Daphne who used to be in her year. Now Lady Astoria Malfoy, the fearsome blonde was about the only person she could call a best friend. Despite the rumours and the scandals, she stuck with Pansy and made Draco promise that he would not judge his once friend and betrothed along with the rest of the society. She still got on well with the Malfoy heir, but even Draco didn't show her the loyalty Astoria did.

"Are you though, really? You're nearly forty, Pans, and I know you enjoy the travel and the clubbing and having the pleasure without the baggage, but is it really what's best for you? You're so successful, you can afford to spend some more time on yourself and maybe sharing your success with someone other than your daytime drinking buddy," she pointed at their martinis.

Pansy raised a brow. "I didn't think you'd still have an issue with a few drinks, you stopped breast feeding last month," she pointed out.

"Don't even get me started, I swear I'll need cosmetic magic soon," she looked down her blouse discretely at her once firm cleavage.

Pansy rolled here eyes. "You're just as beautiful as ever. Draco hasn't even looked at another witch in all these years, he's absolutely stupid for you. And not only did you give him an heir, little Selena has him wrapped around her tiny finger. Honestly, you could say you have it all," she reminded her.

"I know," Astoria sighed and leaned back in the comfortable chaise elegantly. "I just wish you could say the same for yourself," she pointed out. "And I wish you would stop that as well."

Pansy lit a cigarillo, the tendrils of smoke curling around her as she frowned at her friend. "You know I don't smoke often, let me enjoy my vices. Besides, I know it's possible with magic and muggle technology alike, I just don't know if I would want to have kids and the responsibility that comes with them. I'm too set in my ways, and I like my life as it is. If I meet someone, then so be it, but I'm not going to spend my time chasing after 'true love'," she added contemplatively.

"Well I hear you've meet someone quite exciting," Astoria grinned cheekily, enjoying a good bit of gossip to take her mind off all her duties back at the Manor.

Pansy decided to feign ignorance for the moment. Surely it wasn't already known that she hired Granger? It hasn't yet reached the Prophet and she didn't spot any paparazzi this morning on the way to the office. "I'm not sure what you mean," she exhaled the menthol smoke and looked at the blond expectantly.

"Oh what do you take me for? She was seen with you, exiting the private room in the restaurant at your headquarters. A friend of mine happened to be having lunch there at the time and said you both appeared quite amicable. I want to hear the details," she pointed at her friend with her olive.

Pansy raised a brow. "If you're talking about Granger, that was an interview for a job as part of my research team. Nothing exciting or detailed happened," she pointed out.

"Wait, Granger is working for you? That's interesting. Are you aware of her preferences?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" Pansy looked at her in surprise. Preferences? As far as she knew, the Gryffindor princess used to date RonaldsWeasley and then just kept to herself.

"It was in the papers last summer. She was spotted by the editor of Prophet in Berlin. They printed photos of her dancing and kissing another woman in a gay bar for a week before the Sedgeway divorce scandal hit the news. How are you not aware of this?" She asked curiously.

Pansy shrugged. "It might have been during that time I was in Canada for the World Social Enterprise forum," she pointed out. "So I wouldn't have had access to it. Either way, you know how Prophet is, I doubt it was that straight-forward," she pointed out.

Astoria grinned. "Oh I think it is. God knows what she is, judging by those scars, but fully human is unlikely. Maybe that's why she's into women as well, makes you wonder what else is wrong with her," she mused, not really mindful of the impact of her words until it was too late. "You know what I mean, it's not-"

Pansy finished her drink and stood up. "I've got to go, I have a meeting to get to," she collected her handbag and stepped around her chair.

"You know what I meant, don't be like that," Astoria stood as well, not wanting them to part on a sour note.

"I'll call you later to rearrange drinks," was all Pansy said before heading for the car park to the apparition spot, ignoring Astoria's protests. Suddenly she found herself no longer in the mood for socialising.

For some reason, today Astoria's words hit a bit harder than usual. Maybe there really was something wrong with her for thinking she could be contented as she was, but meeting someone who wouldn't bore her to tears wasn't exactly an easy feat. The news about Granger's preferences sparked her interest though. Could they have more in common than she previously thought?


	5. Chapter 5

Looking at her expensive wardrobe, Pansy tutted and opened her drawers for something a bit more comfortable and suited to the usually soggy Scottish weather and the greenhouse that Neville would undoubtedly host them in. Finally settling on one of her a thick black roll neck jumper dresses that came down just above her knees, she made sure her hair was in place before adding final touches to her make up and heading to put some shoes on. Kyra promised she won't be bored to tears so she finally accepted, honestly glad to have an excuse not to attend another endless business soiree. She grabbed a bottle of Moet and her purse before heading out, apparating from the spot on her roof to the Hogwarts gates.

Luckily she stepped forward to reach for the gate, as just a couple of seconds later, another person landed in the exact same spot. She turned around, startled and hand on her wand before realising it was a familiar face.

"Granger? What are you doing here?" she asked.

Hermione lowered her wand as she recognised Pansy and raised a brow at her question. "I'm visiting Kyra & Neville for dinner. Yourself?" she asked, reaching down to place her wand back into the slim holder wrapped around her thigh.

Pansy couldn't help but let her eyes take the woman before her in, and appreciate the sight of the tight black treggings, a simple black sleeveless top under a lovely thick cardigan that seemed to flick at the bottom as it flowed around the woman's calves. What stood next to her was however quite a bit of a surprise.

"Is that a grim?" she asked, eyeing up the tall black creature.

Hermione chuckled and patted Byron's tall ears, forgetting that Pansy didn't know she had a dog. Kyra was used to him by now, though she initially also thought he was a grim. "No, he's a muggle dog, a German shepherd. His name is Byron, and he's a good boy," she smiled and he whacked his tail happily at the praise. "I hope you're not afraid? I promise he has a sweet nature and never bites," she hoped to reassure the pureblood witch who probably rarely came into contact with them like this.

Pansy shook her head. "I'm sure we'll be fine," she said a bit cautiously, it was a rather large dog after all, but then she leaned down and offered her hand for the dog like she did with the few dogs she met through her friends in the past.

Byron padded closer and sniffed at it before licking her palm and pushing his snout in until she reached up to rub his ears. "Hello Byron, I think we'll be friends," she offered with a smile and straightened up. "I guess we're each other's surprise guest then," she offered and pushed the gate open, their magical signatures registered with the wards for the evening.

Hermione passed through the door as it was held open for her, and they fell in step as they headed up towards Greenhouse two as per Neville's letter, Byron by her side obediently as he sniffed the ground and looked around the new place.

"I would have thought your Friday evenings would be too busy for friendly dinner," Hermione observed, not having seen the woman outside of the work setting just yet, their lunch interview none-withstanding.

Pansy looked at her curiously for a moment before shrugging. "It does save me going to a boring business soiree at the Ministry," she did concede.

Hermione chuckled. "Is there every any other kind of those?" she pointed out.

Pansy had to admit she had a point and as the banter between them flowed, she found herself starting to relax after the long week she's had.

They were greeted at the door to the greenhouse by a smiling Kyra and led inside. Greenhouse Two housed regular herbs mixed with basic magical ones. Most preferred the temperature around sixteen degrees and a daily cycle of sunlight intermittent with muted lighting. That is exactly what they had this evening with the muggle fairy lights installed around that provided a gentle glow for the plants and for the diners. Neville had cleared out the long benches to the other side of the greenhouse and they had a lovely round dinner table with a steaming Chinese hot pot in the centre, surrounded by smaller bowls full of ingredients for everyone to add and sample. It was the kind of sharing food they all loved, and Neville's mushrooms were always spectacular so Hermione certainly couldn't wait to dig in.

Kyra laughed when Pansy offered the expensive bottle of bubbly, and Hermione pulled out a tub of clotted cream ice cream to go with the fresh mango for their dessert.

"You two spoil us! Come have a seat, the table is all set," she smiled and led them to the heaving table set with wooden plates and bowls, Neville's very successful attempt at recycling some of the plant material that would otherwise go to waste.

"These are great," Hermione praised as Neville came in with a plate of prawns and sat down, taking the offered bottle of pinot gris to pour some out for everyone.

"Thanks! I'm working on cups and jugs next. I spoke to Roderick, he recently took over as the care taker, and apparently the forest had to be thinned in a couple of places and not all the wood is going to be absorbed, so we're going to see if we can created a full set of cups for the Hogwarts kitchens,"he offered excitedly.

"If half of us were as enterprising as you are, the world would be a better place," Hermione chuckled and breathed in the spices around her hungrily. "So what do we have?" she asked, looking at the two bubbling halves of the pot.

"Plain veggie stock on one side and spicy chicken stock on the other, to have some variety. It should be ready to start cooking," Kyra encouraged them and they settled into an easy rhythm of picking up bowls with greens and proteins and adding them to both sides of the pot.

As Kyra and Pansy got into a heated conversation about an upcoming expo in Barcelona, Hermione reached down to rub Byron's ears to make sure he wasn't feeling left out before accepting a cup of jasmine tea from Neville with a smile. "How did you know this is what I was missing?" she asked.

Both of them travelled different parts of the world, but China, Japan and Thailand were the tree countries they both visited and shared a love for. With international travel not-too difficult and home ingredients available around small markets in London, they were able to bring a taste of their time abroad to their own homes.

"You weren't the only one missing it," he explained and took a sip of his own cup. "Don't get me wrong, nothing beats a cup of Earl Grey on a rainy morning, but sometimes I still crave the jasmine, the Szechuan spices, and the street food," he admitted.

"Don't even get me started on the street food cravings," Hermione chuckled, glad to have someone understand her traveler's itch.

They discussed everything from the current politics, upcoming expos and conferences on skincare and potions, as well as Neville's research and plant cross-breeding practice. It was then that Kyra mentioned their plans to experiment with both known ingredients and new plants for the scar treatment.

Pansy listened with great interest, as potions truly were not her strongest suit but she instinctively recognised the potential value in what they were discussing. "So you mean to tell me that we could be looking at something that is a single plant combining the best of two other plants? Like, I don't know, rosehip and aloe vera?" she asked, trying to grasp the potential and the risks with something like this.

Hermione took a sip of her wine before nodding. "Essentially yes. By cross-breeding plants, we are altering the plant's DNA," she tried to explain, realising Pansy may not know what that was.

She just waved her the brunette to go on. "Their essence and properties will therefore combine, but do we know how? Can we predict it? And if we were to use them, would we know how they would interact with other potion ingredients if we were to replace the traditional ones in the recipe with the cross-bred?" she asked, getting the hang of this.

"Precisely, that is the question!" Kyra grinned. "We've made an initial list of all the ingredients that we know that could help with scar appearance, but the older the scars, the more stubborn. Neither potions, nor any know cosmetic products can completely reduce or heal them at the moment. Not to mention cursed scars like creature bites and scratches. Every single ingredient has been tested separately and in conjunction with others. We began with reship and finished with the most potent, dittany, and still no progress. Perhaps there is something yet undiscovered, a herb, a root, a flower, a seed, something that hasn't been yet grown by nature or herbologists that could help. So we thought we can work on most of the line while we leave this strand completely experimental and work with the best herbologist in the country," she smiled fondly at Neville who was clearly just as smitten.

Hermione observed their de facto boss as she processed all the information swiftly and nodded. "Without mentioning the social impact of this work, it will require initial investment but the profit were you to succeed with this venture would be unsurmountable," she summarised. "I'd like to see a new proposal and budget estimation for this work, as it's quite different from what we initially agreed," she suggested.

Kyra nodded. "We'll prepare one for you next week, and I'll draft an amendment to our contracts under the patent clause?" she suggested, as this invention would bring all of them quite a bit of profit.

Pansy nodded as she pulled a prawn out of the bubbling broth. "I look forward to it," she promised and they tucked back in, not forgetting Byron who got to enjoy some delicious cooked pork as well. "Would you pass the beansprouts please?"

As she was nearest, Hermione picked it up and went to hand it over. Pansy was just taking a sip of her wine and wasn't paying as much attention as she should have, and her fingers slipped slightly on the rim of the bowl. The dish wobbled and her panicked gaze snapped to her hand, knowing she would never catch it properly. Hermione's retrieving hand suddenly shot back out and gripped the dish and Pansy's fingers tightly to steady it, the movement but a blur to the regular human eye.

All conversation ceased for a moment, Pansy's startled eyes flicking to catch the brunette's gaze. What startled her more than the fast, almost inhuman reflexes, was the sudden darkness of the usually whiskey coloured eyes. They were so dark, nearly as black as her own. And then she blinked and they were back to normal, the only sign of anything having happened was the slightly faster rise and fall of their chest from the shock of the situation. She could feel the woman's touch keenly, her arm breaking out into gooseflesh as her senses tingled in warning and pleasurably at the same time.

Hermione felt the creature within her surge before stamping it down, her shoulders quaking slightly with the effort to keep her wings in. What in Godric's name? She quickly dropped her grip on Pansy's hand and made sure her hand was back under the table before flexing her fingers, her skin still tingling.

Neville dropped another prawn into the hot pot with a splash. "Shall we add those beansprouts?" he asked, trying to break the tension. While Hermione never confirmed what happened, he sensed the change in her after what he assumed was an attack by the ferocity of the wounds on her cheek. And yet he never saw it react like this before. Perhaps his observant other half guessed right that these two may be better suited to each other than they knew.

Pansy passed him the dish before taking a larger sip of her wine than was necessarily proper or polite. Kyra started them chatting again, eventually drawing everyone back to the conversation but the tension never quite left the group.

Hermione said good night early with the excuse of settling Byron at home, and headed for the nearest apparition point where she could get them both home. Once the tired pup was settled by the fireplace, she locked up and pulled on her pyjamas, opting for a strappy top which would be comfortable. Once settled on an ottoman near the fire, she carefully flexed her neck and shoulders before allowing her itching wings to come out. She flexed them gently, careful not to upset the rest of her living room before looking down at her hands. They looked the same as always, and never has she had a reaction to someone's touch like that. It wasn't that the harpy within her was upset or repulsed, it was more surging forward, being drawn out of its usual human confines, and that she found dangerous.

Until she could figure out what this meant, Hermione resolved herself to simply avoiding Pansy Parkinson, her touch in the least, as much as she could. Perhaps her creature was simply reacting because she hadn't let it out in such a long time. Perhaps she could even test the theory if her wings would allow her to fly, as she never tried to do so before. Formulating a plan in her mind, she thought there just might be someone she could ask for help. As she set her empty mug in the sink and headed to her bedroom, she yet had no idea that the most difficult challenge was yet to come.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My abject apologies for taking 6 months to post! If you are still reading this story, thank you for your patience and support. I am still working on this story and it's slowly coming together, hopefully with more regular posts on the horizon once again. Hope you enjoy this chapter and let me know your thoughts!

"Can you pick up some of the white moss from the alder tree? I'll use it to protect the soil in Greenhouse four," Neville pointed at the large tree to her right as he crouched down to gently pick on the yellow mushrooms growing on a small tree stump.

Living at Hogwarts and having access to the Forbidden Forest was a herbologist's dream come true. The specific flora and magical properties of the soil allowed for the growth of certain herbs and mushrooms year round, preserved under snow and ice, and blooming for longer periods of time than in most locations and types of soil. Like this Cantharellus cibarius that he picked for the potion mistress and himself for their experiments. And his ramen of course, it was absolutely delicious after all. Perhaps Hermione will at some point be comfortable enough to say what was really on her mind if she picked enough ingredients.

He wasn't disappointed when after another half an hour of walking through the forest, they came to a clearing and set down a blanket for a quick lunch, the weather thankfully holding out, the spring sun warming up already. Hermione allowed herself a few quiet moments before taking a fortifying breath and looking at Neville.

"I was wondering whether you would be able to help me with something," she began, encouraged when Neville just inclined his head for her to go on and took a bite of his sandwich. "You see, the reason why I quit working at the Ministry and travelled was because of the consequences of an attack," she began, explaining the incident itself with the harpy, the things she learned about herself since and how it was impacting her daily life.

Neville's brows rose steadily on his forehead as he listened to the fascinating encounter and the traits she had developed. "So…does that mean you could tell me for example if there are any animals around us by smell? How strong are your senses?" he asked.

Hermione thought about it for a moment, taking a deep breath. "Somewhat. I can smell the grass, flowers, the honey from the nearby beehive, but I can't smell too far. I think if I was to let my wings come out and allow the creature side of me to come out more, my senses would sharpen. To be honest, I've never really allowed it to take over, after the initial changes" she admitted.

Neville nodded, taking another bite of his sandwich silently while he contemplated her words. "I'm sadly no expert on magical creatures but even I know how rare harpies are. I promise to keep your secret. How can I help?" he asked.

Hermione offered a small self-deprecating smile. "Well, I can't exactly test out and observe my traits at the same time. I was wondering whether it would be safe for me to maybe try them out somewhere here, with someone who would keep me safe," she offered, sure he would understand why she was talking to him in particular.

Neville's answering smile was earnest. "I'd be honoured," he promised. "What would you like to try first? How do you exactly shed the control?" he asked curiously.

Hermione shrugged. "I'm not sure, to be honest. I think I'll start by stretching my wings out and testing them. I don't even know if I can fly actually," she admitted.

"That would be very cool," he grinned and finished his sandwich before taking out his notebook. "How about I capture some of the details such as if you can fly, and if so how high, those sort of things. That might help, right?" he asked.

Hermione nodded and got to her feet, shedding her simple black blazer to revel a strappy vest underneath that would allow her wings the freedom. "I'll cast a few charms around the area so we're not disturbed and then give it a try," she added and turned around to walk the perimeter and cast the spells that came to her so naturally even after so many years since their time on the run.

Neville grabbed another sandwich to eat while he waited for her to finish, fascinated by the scale of her tattoo. He'd caught a glimpse of it, they all had, and Kyra once told him that it ran the whole length of Hermione's back. They've been friends for a good couple of decades and he never questioned her over this. Perhaps it wasn't his place, or so he thought. For Hermione to trust him so implicitly was new, but not unwelcome. He had always respected her and now knew he could trust her with his own life if need be. It was a comforting thought to have someone beside Kyra that he could rely on in this way, as his circle of friends remained very small due to the isolation up in Scotland. If there was one trait he admired about Hermione, it was her loyalty. He wondered whether the harpy within her influenced her personality, but as he considered the past few years, she only appeared a bit more reclusive. There were none of the traits of fury and vengefulness one would associate with the magical creature.

Then again that wasn't exactly true. He could still remember the terrible acne boils that appeared on Marietta Edgecombe's forehead after ratting the DA out to Umbridge. Hermione had an inherent vicious streak born out of her protectiveness even during her youth. He wondered whether it remained just as strong or whether the harpy fed into it at all.

"Okay, I'll step back. They can be a bit overwhelming and I wouldn't want to smack you in the face. Kyra wouldn't forgive me," she grinned, trying to bring humour through her nervousness.

Neville chuckled obligingly. "To be fair, not many people can say they've been smacked in the face by a harpy, or even a partial one, so I'll take it as a story to tell my kids one day," he winked.

Hermione merely shook her head at the cheek and took a deep breathe, allowing her wings to extend out. She flexed her shoulders, the wings spreading and unfolding, almost in a billow. Hm, maybe that was the way to go for flying, she mused and tried to shift her shoulders again to see if it would make her wings move.

She caught Neville's expression and her gaze narrowed at his abysmal attempt to suppress a grin. "What?" she asked impatiently, hands on her hips.

Neville allowed himself a chuckle. "You look like you're doing the chicken dance," he admitted, motioning at her shoulders and elbows.

Hermione rolled her eyes to the heavens. Morgana give her some strength. "You try to move these then," she bit back, appeased when he raised his hands as a sign of peace and motioned for her to try again.

This time she put her hands firmly into the pockets of her jeans and tried to keep as still as she could, flexing her back muscled gently to figure out which ones would move the wings best. She repeated this a few times until she realised that she was hovering about a foot off the ground. "Well, I guess I can…hover?" she mused and tried to go a bit higher, rising another three or four feet before remembering why she didn't like flying in the first place - heights. She tried to come down gracefully but instead froze in uncertainty and fell down, barely managing to roll into the fall to land on her haunches.

"Well that's certainly a box to tick, and you went up about five feet at least," Neville wrote this down, with a short description of the movement and wing span. "What about your senses? Now that you used your wings, are they more attuned?" he asked.

Hermione's logical mind appreciated his curiosity and she allowed herself to close her eyes and just feel. When she next opened them, they were black as night and endless in their depths but she felt…more. She was so much more than her usual human self. A movement caught her attention and her head turned sharply to the left, seeing and sensing the strong heartbeat. "A deer…young buck, just through the trees….two rabbits, the hare is carrying….." she took a deep breath and her head turned to Neville.

He stilled immediately at the gesture, realising too late that he was quite close for a predator to sense. She observed him and sniffed the air a bit before chuckling. "I can smell Kyra all over you…..sage and lemon myrtle…and you smell like the forest soil, fresh after a rain…" she offered, closing her eyes to try and get back to herself.

Neville took a gamble and asked her a question he didn't know if she would answer. "What does Pansy smell like?" he asked softly, remaining still in his seat as her intense dark eyes snapped open. There was the fury, lighting up the endless darkness of her gaze. He tried not to show his apprehension, keeping still and his expression blank.

She could sense his fear however and tried to curb in the reaction her body experienced at the mention of the brunette. Several deep breaths later, she blinked until her gaze returned to its regular whiskey brown and she came over to sit beside him, reaching for the bottle of water.

Neville let her catch a breath, not really expecting an answer as her reaction to Pansy was so strong. They first saw it at the dinner party and now his suspicions were confirmed. If this is how she reacted, then it was likely that the creature felt some sort of connection to the Slytherin. Perhaps they were even mates, if harpies had them. There was so little known on them that he wasn't sure whether it would be wise to mention that just yet.

"Lilac," she spoke softly, looking out over the meadow as she wasn't sure she could face his knowing gaze just yet. "She smells like lilac and something I can't quite place," she admitted.

It wasn't that she couldn't place it, but how can one explain to a human the scent of fire and desire? It was heated and musky, a most heady combination with the flowery lilac. Though she smelled it only for a very brief moment during that fateful dinner party, she couldn't forget it if she tried.

Neville packed up the rest of their snacks. "I think your harpy nature is well attuned to your human self. I inherited some books from Gran, though I haven't been able to go through all of them yet. She had an impressive creature section. Would you like me to look for more information? I might find something to share, or learn of any herbs that would be beneficial," he offered.

She finally looked at him and saw no judgement, only his earnest friendly face. "Thank you, that would be great," she nodded. "What else do you need to collect today?" she asked, getting up to her feet as they picked up their baskets and headed back for the tree line.

"The last item on my list is a wildflower bouquet for Kyra. Want to help?" he grinned.

She chuckled. "You are such a soppy sod, honestly," she teased but who was she to deny the couple the little joys?

* * *

"Oh gods, Kyra! Are you alright?" she saw her friend's expression tense as she leaned away from the potion. She reached up to feel her clammy forehead and was about to suggest getting her a tincture when the blonde bolted for the nearby bin and vomited violently.

The two assistants already at their benches balked at the sudden movement. "That's contamination!" one of them warned but Hermione pointed them at the door.

"Stabilise your potions and leave," she said firmly, her tone not one to argue with as the two young witches cast a few charms to keep their potions stable and hurried out to leave them alone.

She knelt down beside Kyra and gently pulled her hair away, casting a spell to clean up the couple of wispy strands that managed to fall into her trajectory. She tied it back with a spare hair tie from her wrist and gently rubbed her back, frowning when she felt the slightly more pronounced spine than she was used to. "What's wrong?" she asked while summoning a glass of water for the blonde.

Kyra tried to answer but gagged around her words, heaving for a long moment until there was nothing left to come up. "Breakfast didn't sit with me is all," she tried to reassure her friend.

Hermione raised an incredulous brow. "What do you take me for? You've lost some weight and this is the second time I've seen you being sick in the past week. I can tell something isn't right," she said firmly, taking the bin from her and vanishing the sick to get rid of the atrocious smell. She pulled Kyra close and helped her drink some water, casting gentle cooling charms on her forehead to soothe her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to say anything just yet," Kyra sighed tiredly and allowed herself to lean back against her friend.

"I'll get you a nausea potion," Hermione offered, trying to get her more comfortable.

"No," Kyra's response was immediate and vehement. "It counter-reacts with my prescription. I can't have valerian root at the moment," she explained, knowing it would take Hermione's brilliant brain mere seconds to understand.

Hermione paused, processing the information. Sudden weight loss, violent vomiting, exhaustion, avoiding valerian and regular nausea potions, prescription….. "Hyperemesis gravidarum…" she whispered in awe.

Kyra chuckled. "Yup, I would be so lucky," she sighed tiredly. As far as she heard, morning sickness was annoying. This however, this was an entirely different level of unfortunate.

"How far along are you?" Hermione asked gently, helping her drink some more water.

"Four weeks. The healer says the symptoms should hopefully go away in a couple of weeks. I didn't want to say anything before the second trimester, as I didn't know if the baby would take," she admitted, not wanting to raise Neville's hopes. They've been together for over a decade and have been trying for many years without success. The possibility that she was pregnant now was most magical to her.

Hermione was stunned but ecstatic for her friends. "Congratulations, you both deserve this happiness," she gently squeezed the blonde's petite frame before helping her stand up. "But I have to say - deciding to expose yourself to potentially harmful chemicals and magical ingredients in an experimental potions lab? What were you thinking?"

Kyra looked a bit guilty, her gaze dropping to their bench. "But we're so close, I can feel it! If only we could crack this formula-"

"And we will," she interrupted the blonde and led her out of the lab. "But you'll be doing so from home, helping us obtain the ingredients. I will be doing the brewing," she said pointedly.

"I'm not an invalid," Kyra very near stomped her foot stubbornly but the sudden movement clearly unsettled her as she swayed on her feet.

Hermione held her up patiently. "I can see that," she observed drily. "Come on, you're going home, you need to lie down," she guided her towards the main floo and whisked them away to Scotland.

Neville turned pale as a sheet when he saw the state of his other half, curled up in bed and grimacing as Hermione gently inserted a needle into the faint vein above her ring finger a couple of hours later.

"I don't know how muggles can bear this," Kyra frowned as Hermione moved around and clicked a few plastic pieces in until she was connected to the thin tube and bag of clear liquid. "What is it called again?" she asked.

"Saline, sodium chloride and water. I checked with my squib friend who works at a hospital in Edinburgh and he suggested getting you some of this. It doesn't react with the potions they prescribe at Mungo's for your condition, and it will help keep you hydrated while you sleep without forcing down water," she promised. "I cleared it with Poppy, she'll check in on you soon. I hope it helps."

"Thank you, Hermione. I always knew you would be a great friend," Kyra reached for her other hand and squeezed it gently.

Hermione offered her a fond smile. "Anytime. Now, I'll leave you two to talk. Call me if you need anything," she patted Neville's shoulder and made a hasty retreat, wanting to leave the couple alone so they could talk in peace.

Only once she settled Byron after a quick run around the nearby park did she realise that with Kyra out of commission and banned from the lab for her own safety, she was effectively the head potions mistress in the company. And so she would have to attend the conference in Geneva next week in Kyra's place.

With Pansy.

Fuck.


	7. Chapter 7

“You’ll be a good boy for auntie Kyra?” Hermione knelt before the handsome German shepherd and gently dug her fingers into the fur under his pointy ears to rub his neck. 

He whined a little, knowing whenever he was left with his auntie, he wouldn’t see Hermione for a few days.

“I know, I’ll miss you too, handsome. If you promise to be a good boy, I’ll bring you a treat from Switzerland,” she promised and smiled when his tail thumped on the floor at the word ‘treat’. He really was a very clever boy. “Alright, I’ll go now, you be good,” she kissed his snout and got up, nodding her thanks to Kyra who was still resting in bed. 

The combination of potions and muggle intravenous fluids had done their job to stabilise her a bit and she was regaining her strength. The pregnancy was however deemed high risk. Muggle or witch, healers tended to err on the side of caution in cases such as these. They would be losing a brilliant potions mistress in the lab but Hermione agreed to take the lead in the development and check in with her twice a week to discuss progress and come up with routes to refine their current progress.

She closed the door gently with a last reassuring smile at Byron and sighed wearily.

“He loves Hogwarts, the students will spoil him as always,” Neville tried to reassure her and picked up her leather holdall, escorting her down the stairs towards the gate.

“I know, and I’m glad she’s not going, I just…hope I will have enough space,” she said simply, the meaning clear. She was not looking forward to this trip in any way, shape or form. A large conference, too many people and their curious stares, and then there was Pansy Parkinson. So much for keeping a distance from her for now… Her harpy would hopefully remain in check for the duration of the conference and they could go their separate ways once again in three days. 

“Would it be so bad if you didn’t?” Neville, ever the devil's advocate, asked the question her subconscious has been whispering to her rational mind for the past couple of weeks. 

Hermione’s gaze momentarily shifted, the whites bleeding out as they were swallowed by the darkness of the creature. She blinked a couple of times to shake the surge of emotion off, glad no one was around. “At this point, I don’t want to endanger either of us. I don’t know what I’m capable of,” she admitted softly. 

He handed over the holdall by the apparition point and pulled her into a warm hug. “You’ll know what to do. I think you should give her more credit than you are currently. She knows something is up,” he reminded her of their dinner interaction and with a final kiss to her cheek waved her off before she set off.

As luck would have it, fates decided to mess with her once again, not that she expected any less.

“What do you mean it has been cancelled?” Pansy’s gaze narrowed and she crossed her arms, clearly indicating her displeasure as only a pureblood witch unused to hearing the word ‘no’ ever could.

The concierge began sweating. Hermione didn’t even need her harpy senses to see the perspiration rise on his temples.“My apologies, Dame Parkinson. Your assistant notified us a few days ago to indicate your potions mistress has taken ill and will no longer be attending the conference. The room was cancelled,” he explained carefully. 

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. Fucking splendid. She misunderstood the original conversation with Kyra and thought the conference was in Geneva. She had never visited before and looked forward to discovering the beautiful city in between seminars and their presentation. Geneva had sadly only been the portkey point, where they received their apparition instructions to the other side of the country to a secluded hotel in the St Moritz area.

“Clearly there was a miscommunication. My assistant followed up to change the name on the room, not to cancel it,” Pansy pulled up the communication on her iPhone and showed it to the man. The last email was clearly stating their request and remained unanswered.

The concierge checked their system once again but shook his head. “Apologies, we did not receive this message in time and the room was simply cancelled.”

Pansy’s foot was beginning to clock sharply on the floor in her irritation. “Just replace the room. It doesn’t have to be adjoining as it was.”

Hermione was starting to feel sorry for the concierge who was clearly struggling to accommodate their request. “Unfortunately the room was re-booked and we are fully booked for the conference-“

Pansy was losing her temple with this imbecile very quickly. “Oh for Merlin’s sake-“

“It’s fine,” Hermione interrupted the upcoming tirade. “I can see if I can find accommodation in the muggle resort,” she tried to resolve it to the best of their ability. The muggle ski resort was on the other side of the mountain. This luxurious magical hotel was the only building around for miles so that was her only option. 

The concierge’s apologetic gaze shifted to her. “Apologies Madame, but the muggle ski resort has an anti-apparition ward on the area and we will not be able to currently supply you with regular access between the resort and our hotel due to security measures,” he began explaining.

Pansy just raised her hand to calm him down. “Fine, we’ll make do with one room. But this is utterly unacceptable and I expected better,” Pansy said clearly and signed the check-in sheet with a flourish before marching over to the lift.

Hermione thanked the concierge and shook her head at the doorman who was offering to help with the luggage. She levitated Pansy’s case into the lift and followed her down the corridor on the seventh floor towards their room. As it turned out, it was a beautiful spacious room with a queen sized bed, a small dining table and chairs, and a lavish bathroom. The place was clearly geared towards comfort and luxury, maybe she would be able to transfigure a chair or a pillow into a bed.

Pansy set down her handbag and looked at her. “I’ve heard such great things about this place only for this to happen. It looks like we’re stuck with each other, but I’m sure we can make it work? I do take the left side of the bed though,” it was the most she had spoken to the brunette in a couple of weeks but she wanted to get things clear. 

Hermione shrugged. “I’m sure I can transfigure something into a bed,” she offered.

Pansy shook her head. “Not in here you won’t be, house rules of magical hotels are set to avoid additional guests. At least the bed is spacious, I’m sure we’ll manage,” she explained as she stepped out of her high heels and headed for her trunk to unpack some of her silk pieces and her brocade suit jacket.

“Right, sure,” Hermione mumbled and walked over to the right side of the bed, unpacking her books and hand cream on the dressing table, trying to get comfortable while her mind reeled.She had to sleep next to Pansy Parkinson. What if her harpy comes out? What will she tell Pansy? Would Pansy throw her out? Will she lose her job? Her mind was working so fast it would have been dizzying if she were anyone else. 

For now, she decided to carefully avoid skin contact with the other witch, especially any accidental touching, and focus on the programme. It was the first day of the conference and already late afternoon. The conference was to open this evening with a gala dinner and the real seminars were to begin tomorrow. She was quite glad that their company was one of the earlier presenters, scheduled just before lunch tomorrow morning in one of the main halls. They will be demonstrating blending of ingredients and processes for consumption by both wix and muggles, and she would be answering questions about certain ingredients currently up and coming in skin care and healing. That she could do, she was passionate about the subject, and the two hour presentation was just enough time to present in decent detail and allow enough time for a Q&A. She was sure there would be a couple of her Potioneer colleagues around, but more than that she looked forward to making new contacts and sharing in some of the thinking and ideas that conferences were always plentiful for. 

“I’ll grab a shower first if you don’t mind?” Pansy asked, and after a quick nod from the brunette gathered her cosmetic bag and silk robe, and headed for the bathroom.

Once the shower was on and filling the room with steam, she unpacked her skincare regiment, shampoo and shower oil, and looked at herself in the mirror. She was pushing forty but quite happy and confident with her body. What worried her were the dark circles under her eyes, a sign of her exhaustion. The past week has been straining, to say the least. Several meetings with potential new investors, three business soirées and on top of that worry over Kyra. She was delighted for her friend of course, but even during their short FaceTime call could she see how pale and exhausted she was. Either way, Granger was now her head Potions Mistress and accepted the role to oversee Kyra’s responsibilities for a duration of twelve months.

She could still remember their meeting yesterday where they signed the addition to her contract. Every time it was just the two of them in the room, Pansy realised she was distinctly aware of the other witch. It wasn’t one of her instincts that helped her read people. When Granger was close, she felt…something. A pull? No, that wasn’t quite right. There was no ‘invisible hand’ or whatever pulling her to the other witch. She snorted at how absurd her thoughts turned as she stepped into the hot stream of water.

And that dinner party at Hogwarts, Morgana that was something else. On the bright side, Hermione Granger was not a werewolf, that much was clear from her working pattern and lack of any other symptoms. Those endless black eyes held so much power, she could practically feel the shift in Granger’s magical aura in the moment when they touched. The thought made her shudder, though not in disgust as some may think.

Was she curious? Absolutely. She was known for her drive to test and push boundaries to get an answer. Granger was another puzzle and she wanted to figure out what secret she held.

Was she a bit scared? Of course, her sense of self-preservation was far too strong not to be.

Did it put her off testing a few theories?

She switched off the shower and dried off carefully, glad her hair got to steam a little so it would curl naturally at the ends. As she went about moisturising, she caught another look at herself in the mirror and there was that familiar curious gleam in her gaze. No, she wasn’t put off doing some more testing. She wanted to know, a part of her needed to understand why they had both reacted to each other this way. 

She pulled on her underwear and silk robe, tying it tightly to ensure she was all covered before stepping out. “All yours,” she motioned at the bathroom, noticing Granger was only in a thin tank top and her jeans. She could see the top of a large tattoo of wings on her back, a few of the feathers spreading to the shoulders. It wasn’t something she imagined the goody-two shoes Gryffindor princess ever acquiring, that was for sure. The mystery grew even further.

They kept their distance while getting ready, and then at dinner, thankfully seated a few spaces apart at the round tables, so Pansy could see the witch interacting with her colleagues. Her voluminous curls hung around her shoulders, the elegant cinnamon coloured dress nearly full length and some clever layering of fabric hid most of her chest scarring, not that it would have taken away from the confident air with which Hermione debated with the Hungarian potions master sitting beside her.She had a presence, something Pansy noticed during their initial interview, but somehow that presence has grown over the past couple of weeks. Or was she just noticing Granger more closely now?

That night they quickly changed and went to bed, keeping a respectable distance between them under the large duvet. Hermione muttered a soft charm, drawing the rune of separation into her mattress with her finger, feeling an invisible barrier of her magic emerge between them, only sensed by herself and her harpy. She felt a surge within her chest but stumped it down, not willing to give the harpy a chance to react to the close proximity of the other witch. Feeling restless, she fell into fitful sleep as the breathing of her sleeping companion deepened.

* * *

“Granger…….Granger?” Hermione could vaguely hear the call but frowned, enjoying the warmth of her pillow too much.

Pansy took a deep breath, shuddering softly at the warm nose nuzzling into the junction of her neck and shoulder. It has been a while since she slept with someone in the same bed through the night. She had been so comfortable and woke up feeling warm and contented, until she realised the human warmth pressed against her back was Granger, and the shell of feathers wrapped around them was a wing. 

“Granger….” she tried again, looking down at the scarred arm wrapped around her body securely,only tightening its hold when she moved slightly. 

She stopped moving and took a couple of deep breaths in. Granger had wings. Not just tattooed ones. She could clearly see the large, dark feathers attached to the wings cocooning them. What creature had wings? Veela surely, but you can’t become a veela, you can only be born one. Whatever caused those scars clearly passed some sort of creature characteristics one but she couldn’t tell just yet what she was dealing with. 

The secure hold on her was clearly comforting as she slept through it without a hitch, but she still needed space from the other witch until she at least had an explanation as to what this was.

She needed to wake the brunette up, the sun was rising which meant they would soon be due down for breakfast and their sign-in badges for the day of seminars. So she tried a different tactic. “Hermione…” she coaxed, squeezing the witch’s arm, hoping to rouse her with the use of her given name. 

“Hmmm what is it?” she asked sleepily, her mind still not catching up on the situation.

“You need to let me go,” she opted to respond softly but with clear instruction, hoping that tone would do it. 

Hermione blinked her eyes open, breathing in the scent of lilac and something warm and musky for a moment longer before she fully registered the situation. Her runes failed while she slept and she was holding onto Pansy Parkinson with her arms and a wing. She quickly scrambled back, her wings extending fully, knocking into the bed frame but thankfully not knocking anything else over as she backed away from the bed to stand by the window. 

Pansy sat up and turned around to look at her properly now that she could. She was an incredible sight, her dark honey curls wild and messy, large wings spread out around her lithe form dressed in only a pair of sleeping shorts and a tank top. Her gaze momentarily fell to Granger's heaving chest before flicking back up, taking in the powerful aura and dark gaze of the witch before her. 

“Granger….it’s fine, you’re safe. I won’t tell anyone, just try to calm down,” she said gently, slowly getting out of bed to face her fully.

Hermione was still trembling, her fears realised. Fuck, she knew. Pansy knew. She needed to get herself under control so she closed her eyes and tried to calm down but the harpy within her swelled and before she knew it, she was across the room with the other witch pressed against the wall, wings caging them in. 

“Granger…” Pansy’s breath hitched at the proximity, their faces but an inch apart.

The hand beside her head thumped the wall, a look of fury crossed Granger’s scarred features before she suddenly flew back a few feet down onto her haunches, breathing heavily. Pansy remained silent, fearing any other words from her would only incite the witch and her creature side.

Hermione managed to wrestle her instincts and need for the other witch down, her wings folding back into her skin and shoulders losing some of the tension. When she looked up at Pansy again, her eyes were back to their usual whiskey colour, her gaze still intense but features much calmer. 

“I’m so sorry…..” she whispered, getting up to her feet a little unsteadily.

Pansy took a step forward, wanting to reassure her she was fine, but the brunette held up her hands defensively and walked a few paces back, out of her way.   
  
“I’m sorry…I don’t…I couldn’t make her stop…” she tried to explain, feeling an ache in her chest as the harpy tried to get back out, to be with free and with the other woman.Instead she quickly slipped into the bathroom and threw up a strong locking charm, sinking to the floor and putting her head between her knees to calm down her rapidly beating heart.

She had suspected.

A part of her perhaps knew what this was about.

But now, it was simply inescapable. Harpies as it turns out did have a mate, and Pansy Parkinson was hers….

In the bedroom beyond the door, Pansy only had one question. “What the fuck just happened?” she whispered to herself. 


End file.
